A Subtle Death: The Trek of Sharing

A Subtle Death: The Trek of Sharing

written by: RayFed

@MrRayFed

I had been wondering why I was making this journey, for no sane man might make this decision lightly. Indeed, if at all where sanity is concerned. Where as sanity follows reason and reason seems to have been sold cheaply to the desires of my heart; Reason becomes passion which knows no bounds and sanity becomes moot. Therefore, sanity, reason and passion must all come to pass and leave in the wreckage of its wake ....LOVE. Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one and it is the knot in my chest; My chest that beats without reason, but is full of love and powered by my fear. Which drives me ever forward to mine end.

The trail to the top of the hill was not treacherous, no indeed it seemed as though the grass and roots and thorn bushes held me gently and moved me along my way. I made such a light egress that I found myself newly arrived at the top in no time. Standing on the edge of the clearing. I could see that all around storm crows had gathered. I could see them mounting the dead and twisted trees surrounding the cut that stabbed their curling, craggy branches rudely up at the sky like fingers clawing at the face of God. The birds are watching me with their black circled, pale, glassy eyes. Inky beads of black night rolling in their sockets piercing my mind. Dread is palpable in the air and clings to the back of my neck like a grimy, slick sweat. My heart crashes inside, against my chest, like mountainous waves of nausea on the stony cliffs of my resolve. The feeling is oppressive and it almost crushes my courage out of existence. Through the haze of my terror, the door to the mausoleum looms before me.

I can see faces etched within its surface. Tortured and screaming facades of humanities horror. Multitudes, busted open and wrought and torn in twain. It is more than I can bear and I hold my eyes tightly shut for want of my sanity.

Where as sanity follows reason and reason seems to have been sold cheaply to the desires of my heart; Reason becomes passion which knows no bounds and sanity becomes moot. Therefore, sanity, reason and passion must all come to pass and leave in the wreckage of its wake ....LOVE. Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one and it is the knot in my chest; My chest that beats without reason, but is full of love and powered by my fear. Which drives me ever forward to mine end.

My arm stretches out and just the tips of my middle and index fingers making contact with the cold stone. I open my eyes slightly to see the door swings evenly and silently revealing an open passageway, more akin to a gaping orifice and I shudder now that I think back upon it.

This is a night for subtle death.

Those words crept up the back of my skull and standing tall upon my crown fell harshly upon mine ears. A clap of thunder which I thought was the ending of my life in one glorious cacophony of sound was still echoing through the dusty passage as it took me a moment to regain my senses. A light breeze swirling past my legs into the depths of the opening, as if the tomb itself were drawing a long-awaited breath. The sickly sweet smell of decay and rot not so unpleasant, more like one that has doused in a whole bottle of some fragrance that is too complex to comprehend.

The wind whispered a song of Eternityon to gentile flutes, yet softy and softly they played as if moving farther in, beckoning me to come waltz with them. Without even realizing it my foot moved forward and stepped inside. My other foot as if all of its own determined force of will, moved forward as well. Lightly, one step after another step, I followed the sound and the smell. However, the back of my mind was racing with terror and it would scream shrilly, blood curdling shrieks at myself to STOP if I allowed it to.

Where as sanity follows reason and reason seems to have been sold cheaply to the desires of my heart; Reason becomes passion which knows no bounds and sanity becomes moot. Therefore, sanity, reason and passion must all come to pass and leave in the wreckage of its wake ....LOVE. Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one and it is the knot in my chest; My chest that beats without reason, but is full of love and powered by my fear. Which drives me ever forward to mine end.

There, in my head, the footsteps I made were ponderous and came crashing down, like angry stomping over carpets of broken glass. Then, I was standing still, almost not even realizing it. So sudden had my cessation of forward movement had been that I found myself slightly off balance. There, before me stood a stone ebony box. It was hard to tell where corners started and ended because the blackness of it seemed to ebb and flow with the shadows in the room, blending together shades of dark and black, forming new breeds of emptiness, only to disengage from one another to start a new spectacle of night.

It was long, but not overly so and wide, but just so and it seemed to vibrate and shimmer slightly as if chuckling to itself. Suddenly, as if someone had blown out a candle, all was quiet. The very air seems to drain of itself and leave a vacuum and I held my breath not wanting to make even the faintest of sounds. The lid floated gently away from the top and swinging to the left of the crypt hung suspended in mid air for a moment before falling to the granite floor. The effect was instantaneous. There was a wailing and shrieking as if the furies of hell had set loose all at once and a grinding of rock and bone deafening even unto that. I held my ears but to no avail, the sounds emanating forth could not be silenced and tore through the last vestige of my sanity...

Where as sanity follows reason and reason seems to have been sold cheaply to the desires of my heart; Reason becomes passion which knows no bounds and sanity becomes moot. Therefore, sanity, reason and passion must all come to pass and leave in the wreckage of its wake ....LOVE. Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one and it is the knot in my chest; My chest that beats without reason, but is full of love and powered by my fear. Which drives me ever forward to mine end.

Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one.

Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one.

Love is the reason and the passion and the sanity all rolled into one.

Ethereal she rises, gaunt and gilded in gossamer veils. Her corn husk hair cascades over her shoulders, pale and tragic, striking colors of the raven and shadows from the light. Full, luscious, yet black stained ink lips part slightly and what lies within protrudes, as if to take in a drop of the vaporous dead air. Hers is an everlasting life that's truly dread. She raises a withered appendage, with a finger pointed to the quick of my heart. "I've missed you my love. Now begins the night of sharing."

Her heavy words ground through me as though sand being rubbed between two enormous blocks of dry wood. My will does not prevail and my courage fails me. I go to her cold embrace and I weep, until there is no more.

I've always been a jack of all trades. I've been a poet, author, social commentator, comedian, online gamer, pod cast host, and Youtuber. I've had a class A license to drive semi truck over the road. I've worked as a chef, manager and all kitchen positions in hundreds of restaurants over the years. I've traveled in Mexico, Canada and through 37 of the 50 states. I've been a volunteer firefighter in Florida, where I grew up. I've fished the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and saw the far distant coast line of Cuba before its recent opening to the west. I've married, had 4 kids, divorced, got CKD stage 6 (end stage renal failure) Survived a stroke, mild heart attack, MRSA, blood clots and now chronic heart failure. Fully disabled and home bound, the internet is my social outlet, and window on the world. I go to dialysis three times a week, I watch movies, play video games and chat with people on social media. Writing is my catharsis for a life that is now spent measuring the time I have left, less the tomorrows that may never be.

AUTHOR OF THE MONTH

Copper Rose perforates the edges of the page while writing unusual stories from the heart of Wisconsin. She lives with her husband and a black Golden Doodle. She has raised two sons and has been accused of playing well with others. Her most recent credits include the Clarendon Publishing House anthologies; Flashpoint, Rapture, Vortex, and Fireburst, as well as The Literary Crow and Pure Slush Greed anthologies. You can also view her stories at Soft Cartel, Dodging the Rain, Visitant Lit, Terror House, The Drabble, The World of Myth, 101 Word Stories, Who Writes Short Shorts, and Night Garden Journal among other online journals. She also understands there really is something about pie.